Warhammer 40,000 The Amusement
by Dubious Silence
Summary: A bunch of funny tales from a very unfunny galaxy. - Now expanded to include serious tales.
1. Tale 1 Kharn Football

_All warhammer 40K related items shown are property of Games Workshop. I do not own them. Becuase if I did, I would have already made my staff to reintroduce the Squats. Blah,Blah,Blah - assorted legal mobo jumpo. _

_Anyway, this is a series of random funny tales based of the Warhammer 40k universe. Enjoy - feedback (of any flavor)and ideas are welcome. _

Tale 1- Kharn Football

It was on the plains of Kaldore V that Kharn had assembled his mighty legion of Berserkers for a then unknown purpose. With a snarl and an occasional decapitation he had gotten his horde to construct a massive pole, 50 meters tall with a unusual u-shaped construct placed directly on top and afixed with duct tape. Then Kharn commanded that all of the melta-bombs of the horde be placed together in a large oblong shape and be held together with additional duct tape. Having done so, the horde then placed the oblong-bomb a distance of 100 m directly in front of the the large construct.

The horde was then ordered to form two parallel lines that ran the length of the area marked out by the bomb and the construct. Kharn then gave instructions that the horde was to remain completely still and silent until he gave the signal. Kharn then ran off, laughing like a maniac, off into the horizon. The horde, afraid to even move and worried that the warp had finally driven Kharn bat-fucking-insane decided to do exactly what they were told... no matter what.

Some two hours later, the dazed and confused horde heard the sounds of Kharn's heavy boots as he ran at neck-breaking speeds straight at the oblong-bomb. At the last meter, Kharn came to a stop and administered a mighty kick to bomb, sending it hurling direct over the U-shaped construct and quickly out of sight as it continued to rise into the sky. Kharn had immediately put his unarmored hand over his eyes as he watched the bomb's progress, even as it left his sight.

The horde was unsure as to whether the signal had been given, but the fear of the Betrayer and the fact he wasn't currently killing anyone cowed the horde to follow his edict no matter what. Kharn and the horde remained in this position for three hours as the subtle sounds of the prairie took over and a type of peace descended once again. However, soon the horde began to hear a small roaring sound from the direction the melta-bomb had gone and soon turned their eyes to the sound.

Then, in a blaze of white heat, A Emperor class Imperial Battleship broke through the atmosphere and cloud cover and descended down towards the plains. It ran on a direct collision course to the assembled Berserkers and soon came into contact with the ground in a huge boom that toppled the U-shaped construct and the horde, but Kharn continued to maintain his post, hand still shielding his eyes from the sun. The battleship continued to crave it's way to the assembly as huge valleys were created in it's wake and huge chunks of the battleship were sheared off with tremendous cacophony. The horde got back to it's feet and continued to gape as the battleship continued it's collision path to them, not even appearing t slow down in the slightest bit. One berserker decided that he wasn't insane enough and had tried to run, but Kharn's plasma pistol made short work of him as Kharn never took his gave from the fixed point he had been watching for over three hours.

As the battleship continued to close the distance between itself and the horde, it slowed down at an increasing rate that when it finall came to rest, the tip of the prow was directly at the spot that the construct had been erected. Several secondary explosions continued to detonate within the Battleship as the oblong-bomb's effects and the crash landing combined to cause the entire ship to suffer critical failures. The berserkers soon noticed that the bridge of the ship had a large hole in it that suggested... an external force had gone right through the void shields, had torn its way through into the very bridge of the craft, and exploded. As one, the horde soon realised that Kharn's punted bomb had escaped from the planet's gravity, traveled on a perfect collision course with the bridge, and had enough energy to rip right through the ship's defenses to finally bring about it's crash landing on Kaldore V by eliminating the bridge.

One by one, the berserkers (who were so amazed that not even the word killing would have registered in their brains) tore their eyes from the destroyed battleship back to Kharn, who remained at his position for another five minutes as he inspected his handy work. Then, he slowly put both of his arms straight up and shouted "GOAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLL." The horde, realising that this was the signal, instantly broke out into wild cheering and chanted Kharn's name as they left the field.

Kharn, what a great guy.


	2. Tale 2 Da' Best DakkaStik

Tale 2 - Da' Best Dakka-Stik

They were gods of battle.

Together, Gork are Jork stamped their way through the battlefield, firing their Custum Shootas into the 52nd Talorn V as they ran from trench to bullets ripped through the flak armor with ease and even the mighty Ogryn's succumbed to the overwhelming firepower of the duo as they continued their rampage. Where scores of Ork boyz had fallen to the IG's stubborn defense, the flash gitz team moved through as if bullet-proof and overcame entire squads of the human defenders. Even when the current ammo strip fed through their gunz was empty, rounds continued to thunder upon the 52nd as the sheer will of the flash gitz willed their gunz to fire and produce "MOAR DAKKA!" Even as the their brethern was being slaughtered around them, Gork and Jork continued to lead the charge on the earthern defenses of the 52nd. They weren't doing it to win... they weren't doing it because "da boss saiad so"... they were doing it.... for competition.

Gork yelled "I toled yuo dat my gun is more dakka din yourz! I tok out that 'ast O'grin with one shot!"Jork, turning to face an oncoming squad of IG, snarled "Dat's nothin'! I saw one of my shells go thru four of dim humies!" "OH YEH! Watch dis!" Gork replied as he triggered a secondary trigger, which caused an explosive shell the size of a bowling ball to fly into and destory a nearby sentinel walker, leaving only the legs. " Datz nothin'." Jork stated with a laugh as he ran to the nearest trench and set the IG inside on fire with the flamethrower duct-taped to his gun.

Gork growled as he saw Jork claim another seven kills with the flamethrower; that put Jork ahead of him by three kills. He shoved Jork aside and snarled back " Git ot of 'der way! DIS, iz a we'pon!" Gork took a small cone shaped charge, with "WAR'EN: DIS IZ NOT FOR STOOPID GITZ" stamped on it, out of his pack and placed it into his grenade launcher tube. With a smirk, he angled his dakka-stick up and pushed the GL trigger, watching as the explosive landed into a Mortar Chimera. The explosive set off the magazine when it detonated, producing a violent blast that left the Chimera a burned out husk and showered two nearby squads with lethal sharpnel. The battle had been long forgotten by the two as they stood their ground and engaged in a contest of who had "Da biggest, dakkast, an' flashist gun."

Jork growled at Grok's impressive weapon and produced an impossibly large tube from his own pack. It was fully a foot in diameter and eight feet long. "Dis iz da Medtal Blastda!" Jork said as he put the missile launcher on the side of his gun with some hasty work with a roll of duct tape. He lined the tube up with a counterattacking Baneblade and was about to pull the trigger when he thought - "Wait... howz it suppoed to fira? All I did was put sum bolts and a gernade en dis here tube. Iz didn't evin' connect da tube to my trigger." However, Jork quickly dismissed these un-orky thoughts and pulled the trigger anyway. The missile's engine ignited and powered it right through the tube, along a collision course with the Baneblade. The Baneblade in question was well over 6,000 years old and had survived everything below Titan-sized weaponry with little damage. What could a missile that was magically called into existance barely two seconds ago gonna do to it?

The missile found its mark and drove itself in very end of the main cannon's barrel, detonating the shaped charge and sending a jet of melted metal into the chambered shell within the cannon. The shell exploded as the jet of metal melted its internal charge. The resulting explosion set of the additional shells stored within the Baneblade's turret and caused a chain of events that led to the turret flying off the tank's hull and landing on a nearby command chimera, crushing the regiment's command squad. All of this was accomplished in a space of twenty seconds... and Jork could not have been more pleased with his dakka-stik. "DER! Tup dat Mork." Jork shouted to his fellow flash git.

Mork ground his teeth in frustration... he knew he didn't have anything that could top Jork's Medtal Blastda, but he wasn't about to let that stop him. He took out all the melta bombs he had been saving just for such an occasion and duct-taped them to a stange device he had found in an armored silo back on the last planet that his warband had sacked. When he found it, the stange symbol with a yellow, circular background and a central black dot with three black triangle radiating from it on the device hadn't made any sense to Mork. He also didn't understand why it was placed inside a large missile within the silo, just that whatever it was must be very flashy and shooty if "da humies spend all der time pro'tecting it when wez bustid dem up goud." He them placed the entire construct on a metal pole, fastened it with duct-tape, and rammed the pole home in his grenade launcher. "WATCH DIS HERE, YA GROT- LOVA!" Mork angled his gun up and triggered the gernade launcher. The construct was flung into the air with an unknown source of propulsion and headed to the very center of the earthen works constructed by the 52nd.

The moment it impacted, nothing happened. Mork waited a full five seconds before he remembered something. "Oh... RITE!" He declared as he produced the trigger mechanism he had ripped of the panel from the same silo, because "everythin' needs a trigga!" Mork, not knowing that the trigger was not even connected to electricity or even a way to send a signal to the nuclear device he had foolishly launched at the Imperials, pulled the trigger. The resulting flash, blinded Mork as he and Jork were swept off their feet and blown away from the epicenter.

It was a few seconds later that the two finally landed some miles away from the battle and got up to witness the huge mushroom cloud engulfing the battlezone. The two flash gitz were dumbfounded by the sheer amount of DAKKA that had been unleashed by a single pull of a trigger and watched as the cloud swelled into the heavens. Jork turned to Mork and said, in a submissive voice, "You win, Iz can't top dat." "Don't worrie, I couldn't do dat agin if Iz tried." Mork responded back in an equally quite voice. Soon both realized that both the 52nd and their own warband had been destoryed by the nuclear device and found that the world was now empty of all enemies.

"Wel... wat we do noaw?" Jork asked as he and Mork returned to the deserted Ork camp. Mork surveyed the camp and settled his eyes on a nearby fighta-bomba. Mork smiled a toothy grin as he replied "Wez tak dat plane and find sum moar humies ta blast." Jork laughed in response to the carnage he would soon envoke with his dakka-stik but stopped when he found a problem with their plan. "Howz we supposed too fly dat ding? Wez nevar learnded to fly." Jork stated as Mork made his way to the plane. Mork rounded on Jork and hit upside the head. "Wat r youz? Stoopid?!? All wez have ta do is shove a blast-stik inta each of der engins to get it stardeted. Den, we make it go too da nearist planet by telling it ta do so, or we'll blast it!" Jork grinned as he realized his fellow's logic and in no time the two were headed to the next human-infested planet so as to collect more flashy bitz and test out their latest gun upgrades.

They were gods of battle. They were orks. And nothing was going to stop them as long as the dakka never ran out.


	3. Tale 3 The Man of Faith

_I've desided to expand this series to include more serious tales I've hite writer's block and couldn't think of anything but this._

**Tale 1 - The Man of Faith**

Grimaldus kicked the fallen cultist, turning the man's head into a bloody pulp with a crunching sound. Bringing his plasma pistol to bear, Grimaldus swung around to reduce a charging cultist to a steaming pile of slag and delievered a bone-shattering back hand to another running by him. Wadding his way through the heretics' bodies, Chaplain Grimaldus of the Black Templars continued to kill the enemies of the God-Emperor within reach, as his fellow Battle Brothers fought the horde of Khronite Cultists.

Grimaldus swung his badge of office, an ancient Crozius Arcanum, into a man's ribcage and watched as the cultist's torso folded under the intense blow. He reversed his swing to catch a cultist behind the knee with a snap and then brought the butt of his pistol on the cultist's skull, reducing it to half its size. A Khronite Berserker ran at Grimaldus, but Grimaldus countered the heretic's whirling chain axe with his Crozius and fired a plasma bolt straight into the Berserker's stomach, burning right through the armor and melting his guts. The Chaplain finished the fallen marine by shoving him onto the ground and slamming his Crozius into the berserker's helmet, crushing it like a tin can. Grimadlus looked up to see his fellow Black Templars succeding at breaking the back of the Khronite horde and yelled "**CHARGE MY BROTHERS! THE EMPEROR IS WITH US THIS DAY!** "

Grimaldus rose his head to the heavens and shouted " **ENEMIES OF THE EMPEROR! I AM HIS WILL INCARNATE AND I DELIEVER HIS VERDICT!** " Grimaldus lowered his skull helm to stare into the eyes of the heretics before him, the red lenses burning with hate that burned the very souls of those that looked at them."**Die.** "

Grimaldus charged and smashed his way through the heaviest concentrations of the arch-enemy as his Brothers watched in admiration. Grimaldus was fully 863 years old and had spent the grand majority as one of the Chapter's Chaplains. He was a hero of the Chapter for winning countless battles against hopeless odds and has faced almost everything the galaxy could throw at him. He had fought orks on dozens of infested worlds, defeated three differnet Eldar ambushes in the Killgore system, destoryed a Dark Eldar raiding force on Benvore V, took part in fighting of an invading Tau fleet in the Sequinous system, defended against a Tyranid splinter fleet on Combine II, but what he had the most experience in was fighting against the ruinous powers of Chaos. He had defeated many a Chaos champion in hand to hand combat and had inspired his fellow brothers in hundreds of battles against the heretics plaguing the Imperium. During his time as a Space Marine, he won numerous awards and metals, lost his left eye to an Ork, and had to have both of his legs replaced with bionics after a krak missile blew them off. He was in the eyes of his fellow brothers - A mentor, a warrior, a leader, and, most importantly, a holy man of the Emperor. It's a shame that he had no faith in the Imperium.

Grimaldus had been a Chaplain for over 600 years, but it was only in the last hundred that the doubts first began to form within him. He had seen the horrors of war and had seen entire worlds turned to the flame just to starve the enemy of a victory or more supplies. He watched on as the Inquistition purged entire worlds that had been invaded by Chaos, even though he himself had reported that there was no taint left. He watched as Imperial Warships burned inhabited worlds before a Tyranid invasion so as to deny them resources for their hive fleets. He had seen Imperial Guard Regiments sent to the slaughter; 1,000 lives for an extra inch of gained territory.

However, his faith in the Emperor and humanity had made these things seem justified and allowed him to continue to watch over the spiritual health of his company of Battle-Brothers. He led his brothers in prayer and consuled them in issues of faith, should they arise. He was the model Chaplain and he believed thah not even the horrors of the warp could change that. However, nearly one hundred years ago.... he had seen something that caused the first cracks to form in his faith for humanity. He was on Kaldore IV when an Chaos Space Marine Sorcerer had cast Grimaldus down with a foul spell. The spell failed to kill Grimaldus and he had been able to recover sufficently to rip the fallen Space Marine's hearts out, but the spell was not meant to kill Grimaldus.

The spell was meant to corrupt Grimaldus from within with one simple and yet powerful instrument: knowledge. In that single moment of being in contact with Chaos, Tzeencth had showed him how the Imperium would fall. He saw Holy Terra in the hands of heretics, he saw Mars under a swarm of Necrons and he saw he own sector overrun by plundering Orks. In that single moment, Grimaldus has seen the ultimate fate of every single human being until they were either all dead, tainted by Chaos, or simply turned their back on the Imperium.

Another Chaplain and other high priests had blessed and purged Grimaldus to remove any of the spell's residual taint, but Grimaldus didn't tell them what he had learned. How could he? He should have dismissed the entire thing as an illusion of Chaos, only meant to make him question the Imperium. But he knew that it was true.... every day since that day, Grimaldus took a closer look a how the Imperium was faring and after a century of watching, what he realized finally broke through the dogma of the Imperium.

The Imperium was dying. Every campaign launched did indeed recover lost worlds, but they almost always failed to recover every planet lost. More and more, the Imperial Gaurd was becoming strectched to it limits as the enemies of the Imperium seemed to come from every corner of the galaxy. He had even learned that the worlds just within the Emperor's shining beacon, the Astronomican, had recently reported that the light seemed to be faltering. The only two reasons for that was either that the number of souls sacrificed to the holy choir had lowered (which he discounted out of hand) or that the Emperor himself and/or his life giving machinery was failing. Grimadlus came to his soul-shattering conclusion after a century of compiling and searching. Humanity was doomed.

The Chaos Sorcerer had hoped that such knowledge would have broken the model Chaplain and allowed him to become tainted, while leading his brothers to the ruinous powers. Apparently, even after ten thousand years, Chaos had yet to learn that humanity would not go without a fight, even in the face of destruction. Grimaldus knew that his race was doomed, that the Space Marines would fail the Emperor, and that the enemies of the Emperor would finally have their victory. Yet, he refused to give in, he refused to lay down and die, and he refused to let the ruinous powers win without a fight.

The spell has shaken and destoryed Grimaldus's faith in humanity always being victorious, but it had also made him more zealous and committed to ensure the Imperium's survival. As long as he breathed, Chaos would find a waiting Man of Faith ready to challenge them, he had vowed.

And so.... Grimaldus continued to lead his men both in the Chapel and the battlefield, always knowing that his efforts would eventually be in vain. However, he knew that for every heretic or alien he killed was that much more time for the Imperium to survive under the direction of the Emperor. That was what kept him going, that was his strength and the strength of humanity in general. Sheer stubborn defiance in the face of defeat. If he could ensure at least one more second of the Imperium's survival, he would die fulfilled.

It was this mindset that set in when a Bloodthirster of Khorne smashed in front of the charging Black Templars and halted the entire battle company from finishing off the horde of heretics. Grimaldus yelled an uncomprehensible challenge at the daemon and advanced towards it as the two sides of the battle backed off to watch the duel. Grimaldus held no illusions, he had seen a Bloodthirster three-fouths the size of the one in front of him hack a Baneblade to pieces. It would most likely just shrug of his attacks and claim his skull for Khrone in one fell swope.

He knew humanity and he himself was going to be destoryed eventually, but he would be damned if he didn't make them have to climb mountains of their own dead to achieve it. He charged at the daemon of Khrone and yelled the Imperium's oldest and universally known battle-cry "**FOR THE EMPEROR!** " He was a space marine of the Emperor.... and he had no fear.

_I would like some feedback on this little piece and your thoughts on me posting a direct continuation....._


	4. Tale 4 The Man of Faith Falls

_Yeah….. Another serious tale I'm afraid. Oh well, the subject matter in general is depressing anyway._

_Italics are Grimaldus's thoughts and the _**Bold**_ is him speaking._

**Tale 4 – The Man of Faith Falls**

_This is it. The day I fall._ Grimaldus swung his Crozius Arcanum up in a wide arc to deflect the Bloodthirster's axe as it screamed through the air at his head. The blow sent a shock throughout Grimaldus's body as his knees threatened to give out under the tremendous blow. He quickly recovered and dodged backward as the axe came down on his position, missing him and striking the ground with an echoing boom. The two had been dueling for a mere twelve minutes and Grimaldus had already taken several damaging blows and swipes, when his blows did little to harm the daemon of Khorne. Grimaldus righted himself and spat out a challenge at the daemon as his body worked to overcome the pain coming from numerous cuts and gashes. His fellow battle brothers and the Khornite horde had been forgotten by the two combatants as they fought one another and the two sides were quick to get out of the way of their battle. The champion that won would result in a tidal shift against the losing side and could decide the fate of the battle.

Grimaldus's black armor was sullied with his blood from his numerous wounds and he felt his strength fading. He was a genetic super-soldier that had faced many foes in his centuries of service, but this Bloodthirster was old when the Emperor had first been enthroned and was literally crackling with daemonic energy. This fell abomination has killed space marines before with little trouble and was far quicker than its immense bulk suggested. Grimaldus knew that this was the day he would die; he had seen it occur when the spell toke hold of him a century ago. This ended with him on his knees as the Bloodthirster claimed his head with a single swipe of its blood-red axe.

The Bloodthirster growled in agitation as it pulled its axe from the ground and set his burning eyes on the Chaplain once again. It had grown tired of the Black Templar's antics at trying to harm it and it set upon ending its life before Slaanesh took too much power from the Chaplain's pain. The Bloodthirster let loose a deafening roar as it charged Grimaldus and raised its axe to preparation for skull taking. _You're going to have to work for it daemon scum._ Grimaldus charged forward as well and shot his remain plasma shots into the daemon's face as they closed the distance. As before, the plasma did little to harm the powerful Bloodthirster and Grimaldus released his pistol to grip his Crozius in a two handed grip. All at once they closed the distance and the Bloodthirster swung his axe down to bisect the Chaplin horizontally. Grimaldus saw the axe swing down in its deadly arc and was barely able to side step it while running between the daemon's legs. With a roar of primal rage, the Black Templar swung his Crozius into the back of the deamon's right knee joint and was rewarded with a roar of pain from the Bloodthirster. However, this little victory was soon over as the daemon backed handed the Chaplain as it rounded to face him.

Grimaldus was thrown back twenty meters before he landed on the ground with a bone rattling impact. He quickly jumped back onto his feet and grimaced behind his leering skull mask as the daemon once again charged him. _Come forward daemon, you will only meet men of faith among the Black Templars. _Grimaldus held his ground as the Bloodthirster once again came at him with an axe that had claimed the lives of hundreds of thousands. The first swing was meant to relieve the Chaplain of his augmentative legs, but Grimaldus effortlessly leaped over the blade and used his momentum to land at the right side of the creature. Burning with a rage that would overshadow volcanic eruptions, the daemon threw its left fist at the Black Templar, hoping to at least daze him. However, Grimaldus was prepared and rolled under the swing to bring him behind the Bloodthirster once again. The daemon shrieked in pain as the blessed Crozius once again hit its right knee joint with the enough force to destroy a rockcrete bunker. This time, the blow left its mark with a large bruise and the faintest hint of bone damage underneath.

The Chaplain roared once more as he dodged back from the Bloodthirster's furious attacks and settled back to watch the daemon turn to face him once again. The eyes of the daemon were enough to send entire regiments of Imperial Guard running as it focused all its rage, hate, and bloodlust on the one who had injured it. Grimaldus returned the glare with one of his own as he matched the leering smile of his skull helmet with his own smile. _That's right daemon-spawn. You'll need to do better than that to claim the skull of one of the Emperor's finest._ The Bloodthirster, seemingly having read the Chaplain's thoughts, roared once more and rushed to engage him. However, the daemon used its wings to quicken its pace and moved with a speed that Grimaldus could never match as it descended upon him. The axe cut deep as it cleaved its way through Grimaldus's left arm and tore its way through his chest plate to score a deep wound into his torso. The Chaplain grunted in pain as his brain registered the loss of his limb and could only watch as the daemon moved his axe back once again to hit the Space Marine with the flat of the axe head. The force of the blow lifted Grimaldus of his feet and sent him back into a squad of Khornite cultists, crushing three of them with his weight.

Dazed and his strength finally failing him, the Chaplain attempted to raise himself of the ground into a standing position, but could only get himself on his knees. His helmet blared with alarms as they noted his state and the loss of several functions due to the immense blow he had received. His chest bone-plate has been fractured and the chest plate of his armor had crumpled like tin-foil. All Grimaldus could do as the Bloodthirster stomped towards him, was spit blood out of his mouth and realize that he was in the exact position in which he saw his death. Quietly laughing at his foreknowledge, the Crusader glanced up from his wounds and saw that the Bloodthirster had stopped right in front of him, the burning eyes alive with bloodlust and victory. Neither side moved as the Bloodthirster raised his axe for the final strike and claim another skull for his god. Time slowed down from Grimaldus as he saw the axe reach its zenith. _I've failed you Emperor, I've reached my end._

However, Grimaldus suddenly realized something as the axe began its fall, time slowed so that it barely inched his way. If he died, his brothers would fall to this creature. If they died, so would the planet. If this planet fell, there were no other forces in the area and the whole system would fall. If the system fell, Chaos would quickly capitalize and send a full flanking force into the side of the Imperial crusade in this sector and would annihilate it. Grimaldus knew what he had to do. As the axe continued its downward arc, the ancient Chaplain began his prayer.

_Immortal Emperor, I have been in your service for over eight hundred years. Many a foul enemy I have dispatched in your name and whole Imperial systems owe their existence to my actions. Long have I worked to protect humanity by being your precise instrument of vengeance and I have served with honor. I have never retreated, I have never given quarter, and I have won many battles in your name. I know now, as I've had for a hundred years that your time among us is soon reaching its end. I know that the sacrifices that you have made for us will soon no longer matter as the enemies of humanity finally break our backs and sunder the Imperium. I only ask for you to make one more sacrifice – empower me to defeat this daemon and ensure the survival of my brothers and this system for another day. Let me be your instrument one last time. Let me cast the daemon back to infernal regions it hails from. _**Help me.**

The axe began it final approach upon Grimaldus when he felt a presence in his mind. It spoke without words, giving comfort and hope to the Black Templar. All at once, the thing gave some of its power to the fallen Chaplain and he soon felt revitalized by the golden energy flowing from the presence. With little time to act, Grimaldus used he regained strength to narrowly dodge the axe as it scored a hairline scratch on his neck guard. The Crusader rolled away onto his feet and once again brandished his Crozius in a two-handed grip. That fact only dimly occurred in Grimaldus's brain as he also noted how his Crozius glowed as bright as a small sun with golden energy. Never before had the Chaplain felt so wonderful, the Emperor had heard his call and had responded in kind. Though humanity was eventually doomed to die, they would not go without a fight. **The Emperor has heard my call daemon.** Grimaldus stated in a clear, calm voice as his body once again became whole. The Bloodthirster freezed at this statement and studied the Chaplain with a cautious gaze. **He agrees with me, you must die.**

Grimaldus leaped at the Bloodthirster and the daemon became unbalanced due to the unexpected attack. The daemon had had the servant of the corpse god on his knees, how had he recovered so quickly? These thoughts were quickly banished as the Bloodthirster felt the first of many blows begin to rain down upon him; painful in a way that it had never felt. The daemon roared as the glowing Crozius smashed into its axe hand, the blessed weapon turning it into nothing more than a bloody pulp. **I am the instrument of the Emperor! **The daemon attempted to swat the Crusader away its other hand, but Grimaldus rolled under it and came up on one knee to deliver another blow to its left knee. The impact, further enhanced with the blessing of the Emperor himself, shattered the joint and unbalanced the daemon further as he roared in pain. **I am his will made manifest! **The Black Templar ducked as the daemon's wings moved to hit him. He recovered and scored a third hit on the Bloodthirster's right knee joint. There was only the sound of bone breaking as the blessed weapon broke clear through the joint, relieving the daemon of its lower leg. **He guides my blows! **The Bloodthirster fell forward only for it to arrest its fall with its hands at it attempted to fly away. Grimaldus smiled as he leaped onto the daemons backs and grabbed a hand full of its mane. Steadying himself with his grip, The Crusader struck both wings at their bases until both came twitching off. The Bloodthirster gave and even more violent cry of pain at its wings were smashed off and tried once again to kill the Black Templar by trying to grab him its one good hand. It only earned another blow as it reached back and felt the bones in its hand crumble under the onslaught.

Grimaldus, feeling victory within his grasp, leapt off the daemon's shoulders and delivered a blow to its head with gravity adding its power to his blow. There was a terrible cracking sound as one of the Bloodthirster's horns was broken at its base and the left side of the daemon's face struck with tremendous force. The daemon fell flat from the blow and could only look at the Chaplain as he gazed at his foe, the roles of the defeated and victor having been switched in mere seconds. Wordlessly, Grimaldus raised his Crozius high in the air and felt the power the Emperor had lent him suddenly leave him and concentrate itself in the ancient weapon. **For the Emperor. **The sheer force of the blow caused the ground to crack open as Grimaldus's Crozius turned the Bloodthirster's head in something resembling a smashed pumpkin.

Grimaldus's Brothers cheered as their Chaplain claimed victory and quickly moved to destroy the fleeing Khornite horde. Grimaldus could only smile as he watched his brothers begin to slaughter the broken Chaos forces and knew that the battle, the day, the planet, and the system had been won. He watched grimly as the warp opened to return the body of the defeated Bloodthirster and moved to join his brothers in the mopping up. However, he stopped in his tracks when he heard the roar. The Chaplain turned back to watch as the warp tear refused to close as two large hands held it open. He sprinted to the edge and saw an image that would have reduced lesser men and even other Space Marines to insanity. Daemons. Hundreds of daemons all flocking within the horror of the warp towards the open tear. Many he saw as vaguely familiar from past battles, when other loaming shapes were completely alien and their sheer sight threatened to destroy his sanity. Tearing his sight from the background of kaleidoscope of colors, he saw the Bloodthirster he had defeated; it was whole again from its short time in the warp and was holding the gateway open. Its eyes burned anew with promised vengeance as it struggled to hold the gateway open and let its brethren in.

Grimaldus barely even thought as he ran from the tear and settled at a position 20 meters away. There was nothing to think about. The Bloodthirster was holding the gateway open. If the gateway remained open, scores of daemonic hordes would spill forth and the system would be lost. The gateway could only be closed by striking at the Bloodthirster. It would be suicide. He was destined to die that day. Grimaldus yelled a primal shout of hatred as he ran full speed at the tear. A full five meters from the tear, he leaped into the air with every bit of power he could muster and could only watch as he plunged downward into the tear. While the Emperor's power had been exhausted with the "killing" blow of the Bloodthirster, his ancient Crozius Arcanum would still harm the daemon of Khorne. The head of the Crozius met the Bloodthirster's head with a sickening crunch and it was dazed to the point it let go of the tear. The tear, no longer supported quickly closed and the daemonic invasion was stopped.

Grimaldus saw nothing after the tear closed. The pure Chaos of the warp stole his sanity as the frustrated daemonic horde tore into him. The last thing his mortal shell really saw was the sight of the Bloodthirster's face right before his weapon smashed into it – saving his brothers. It was the sight of confusion and fear upon that face that left the aged Chaplain chuckling even as the daemons ripped him to pieces and the last vestiges of his mind were lost. His skull soon became part of a mountain within sight of the Skull God himself and his blood became one with the ocean that surrounded the Blood God. His soul was soon a toy of the inhabitants of the warp and it suffered greatly as the soul of a Space Marine was highly prized within the warp.

The Black Templars never knew of the Chaplain's fate, no one had seen it. His deeds were noted only in the hollow way that acknowledged him as a warrior, but didn't address the conflict he had endured for over a hundred years; his struggles and eventual acceptance that humanity was doomed. His tales were told around the banquet halls, but only guesswork was offered to what had happened to him. The rest of the Imperium only noted him with a single toll of the Bell of Lost Souls. Only the Emperor knew of his fate, one man of faith among the billions of others that had fallen in his service. The only true difference being that Grimaldus knew his actions were only a delaying action in the face of eventual defeat, but he carried on. That was the definition of faith to the Emperor, as one aspect of his consciousness thought about Grimaldus. He had given everything, even his soul, when he knew it was eventually hopeless. In that action, the Emperor saw the defining aspect of humanity amongst the stars – defiance.

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